


The Thing Is...

by QueenGremlin



Series: The Thing About Jaskier and Geralt is They're in Love and Incredibly Stupid [1]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angry Jaskier | Dandelion, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Explicit Sex, First Dates, Fluff, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Uses His Words, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Idiots in Love, Insecure Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Mutual Pining, Original Character(s), Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, no beta we die like men, part one of series, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:08:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25115911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenGremlin/pseuds/QueenGremlin
Summary: READ!!!!!!WARNING:There are a few scenes (two) where Jaskier is sexually harassed by tavern patrons. The first is when it starts with "He drank on Jaskier’s coin, and Jaskier’s stories only became more elaborate." and ends with "He was breathing hard when he heard footsteps."and the second is when it starts with "He could smell the fear rolling off of him in waves as lust was rolling off the others." ends with "Jaskier yelped and jumped back."It can be uncomfortable and Jaskier does talk about how he is SA because he is a bard. Read at your own risk.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: The Thing About Jaskier and Geralt is They're in Love and Incredibly Stupid [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1819198
Comments: 12
Kudos: 220





	The Thing Is...

**Author's Note:**

> READ!!!!!!
> 
> WARNING:
> 
> There are a few scenes (two) where Jaskier is sexually harassed by tavern patrons. The first is when it starts with "He drank on Jaskier’s coin, and Jaskier’s stories only became more elaborate." and ends with "He was breathing hard when he heard footsteps."
> 
> and the second is when it starts with "He could smell the fear rolling off of him in waves as lust was rolling off the others." ends with "Jaskier yelped and jumped back."
> 
> It can be uncomfortable and Jaskier does talk about how he is SA because he is a bard. Read at your own risk.

The Thing Is...

The thing about Jaskier was that he could captivate anyone, it didn’t matter who they were or what they were he could allure them with the power of his songs and voice. He was one hell of a bard, not that Geralt would ever admit to that. When Jaskier sauntered up to Geralt with intentions to maybe get a good fuck, or even better a song out of him. Geralt hadn’t expected to gain an annoying  _ friend  _ out of it either, he did everything he could think of to scare the young man off, and still, Jaskier insisted he would stay- even if Gerald insisted him to fuck off. “You don’t mean that,” He would say with a light laugh and a quick swat at the shoulder. “Who else is going to bathe you after a long day?” Geralt would groan and they would in fact travel together to the next destination. 

It wasn’t until they went hunting for that dragon that people feared and whispered about. It wasn’t until Jaskier almost had Geralt onboard with going away for a bit and to let the other  _ fools  _ handle a dragon. Of course, Yennefer and her ethereal beauty with her violet eyes and tanned skin and undoubtedly soft hair stole Geralt away yet again. Jaskier was left to follow aimlessly with an aching heart. He hadn’t expected to grow feelings for Geralt, but he had. Even if with his aching heart his loyalty stayed, and the optimist in him knew the Yennefer would eventually be a thing of the past. At least he hoped. 

While on the hunt for that dragon Jaskier had hoped for a few things, a pretty girl much taller than him to distract him from his feelings, and copious amounts of treasure. He didn’t expect Geralt to yell at him with such a fierceness that it struck his heart a million times, he hadn’t expected it to be over him losing Yennefer either, and if he were honest- which he tended to be -that’s what really drilled it in. He really only wanted a song or a meek layout of Geralt, he didn’t expect a heartbreak as well. 

Things were blurry weeks after that. Jaskier stayed in that town, went to the town’s pub to drink until he spent all his coins, and when his coin ran out, he offered a performance in exchange for drinks. Soon, Geralt became a thing of the past. A distant memory. A character in a song. He was the Witcher people whispered stories about, or occasionally slandered. Still, Jaskier wanted nothing to do with the stories or slander. He sang. He drank. He bedded anyone he found pleasurable to the eye. That was his life, a boring ritual that he fell into, and at night when he laid alone after his amusement of the evening bid their final goodbyes, he certainly didn’t lay and think about the adventures he could have been on by now. 

The thing was that it didn’t hurt that Geralt chose Yennefer over him, or that he yelled at him in a tone that shattered his heart into millions of pieces. It was that Geralt never came back, he never came to see Jaskier, and he never came to apologize for the words he shouted leaving Jaskier teary. He never returned. Jaskier drank more, he sat at the bar, slurring out stories that were made up, but nobody knew that they were, and he occasionally strummed his lute just to have something to do with his hands. 

That was when the door swung open, a quiet figure stood in the doorway, and certainly looked to be a mess. He was covered in blood, he looked woozy, and was even swaying on his feet. “The Witcher!” Someone gasped. Jaskier went ridged in his seat, he didn’t want to look, but then someone yelled “he looks hurt!” 

How could he not turn around to look at him? He was indeed hurt. Very hurt. Possibly close to death- Jaskier didn’t even know he could die. Could he? On instinct, he jumped to his feet and rushed to his side just as he was about to collapse. “You fucking lug!” Jaskier huffed as he stumbled pushing Gerald to a table to have him sit. “Look at you!” Jaskier could feel the tears welling up in his eyes as he looked over Geralt and the bloody mess he was. The fog and drink in his mind began to clear and frantically looked around. “Well someone bloody help me get him to a healer!” Nobody moved. “Fucking pigs everyone of you! He risks his life to save you and that’s how you repay!?” Jaskier hauled Geralt up who only groaned in slight protest and continued to attempt to drag him out of the pub, he felt the hot tears and tasted the salt of them. He ignored the stench and the blood that was coating him, and then suddenly the weight got easier. Jaskier looked and saw a young girl no more than eighteen helping Jaskier. 

“Thank you,” Jaskier whimpered. 

“He saved us once. We should return the favor.” 

They eventually got him to a healer, a healer who gasped at the sight of the great Witcher bloodied and dying. “Please,” Jaskier gasped. “Save him.” 

With a stiff nod, she guided the two of them to lay Gerald down onto a cot and then ushered them out of her house. “Will you go back to the pub?” The girl asked. She had blood on her once pale blue dress, and she surely smelled of guts and bile. Jaskier probably did too. “Or if you rather I have a bath you could use, free of charge.” 

Jaskier sank to the front porch steps, he shook his head toward the girl- which was a terrible idea as a hangover already decided to set in -the girl frowned and then scrunched up her face. He must really look terrible. He must be soaked in blood, and gods that smell? Is it him? Must be. He sighed and raked a hand through his hair. “I have to know he’s ok first.” 

“Fair enough. Offer stands when you wanna get cleaned up.” 

^ 

Hours. Hours droned by, Jaskier sat on that damned porch with his head in his hands, and the smell of rotten guts still lingering around him. The smell so rotten flies began to fly around him. When the door pushed open carefully the healer gave him a pitiful look that caused Jaskier to nearly reel. “He’s alright? Please  _ tell  _ me he’s going to be fine! He’s a Witcher he can’t die! We can’t part as we did! No-” 

The healer held up a single hand, she looked tired, and Jaskier made it worse by his babbling. “He’s fine. He’ll heal, but he’s resting, and I will not let another man soaked head to toe in guts come into my home.” 

“Right,” Jaskier nodded. He still felt dizzy. Geralt would be okay, and he knew that now. He felt like finally, he could breathe, and he sighed as he stepped off the porch giving the healer a babbling round of thanks and promise of coin. Then he walked off toward the inn he was staying- it was expensive, and he often had to find other lucrative ways to pay since any extra coin he made went to drinks and occasionally when he was too drunk to make any rational decision he was buying the entire pub a drink. Often, when he found himself hungry, or the innkeeper asking him for more money he had to get creative. 

When he reached the room he was staying, a wave of exhaustion flooded over his body and he slumped on the bed feeling the weight of his worry resting on his shoulders dragging him toward the ground. He sighed and stripped himself of his shirt and weakly thought about just burning it along with his breeches when he had more energy. 

It was then that he noticed the muck of whatever was on Geralt had seeped through his shirt and lingered on his skin. It just seemed he couldn’t catch a break. He hadn’t a clue of the time, but he quickly gathered fresh clothing and left the inn. He faintly remembered the girl’s offer of a hot bath, and it would be free, and he didn’t feel like sucking someone off for a bath. He wandered toward the pub only to see a horse standing idly near the entrance, saddlebags, and tack still on, and her bit still in her mouth. “Oh, Roach.” Jaskier approached her carefully, scared she might not remember him. 

As soon as he was in reach of her, she nudged his chest and he reached up to scratch behind her ears. “C’mon let’s get you tucked away. Your dad’s okay, just needs to rest.” He led Roach to a stall and scratched her nose and left her to graze on hay. He made a mental note to figure out a way to keep her stalled. 

He was about to leave the stalls until he heard his name called, “Jaskier!” He turned to the voice to see the girl. She was significantly cleaner, she wore a tired smile, and was standing in the doorway of the stalls in nothing but a nighty. He supposed that’s alright since she didn’t live far, and it was  _ so late.  _ Had this been another night he would have thought about offering her his services, but he was tired, and he was worried, so he stumbled toward her. “I take it he’s alright?” 

“He will be,” Jaskier nodded. “She won’t let me see him until I bathe.” 

“I assumed,” the girl sighed. “C’mon in. Like I said you don’t have to pay anything like at the inn.” 

“I’m grateful. My coin ran out a month ago,” he sighed and followed the girl to the area where the tub was, and he sighed upon seeing it. She moved around the room. 

“How have you been paying for the inn and your drinks at the tavern?” 

Jaskier offered a weak smirk. “With these pretty blues and talented hands, I can buy my way.” The girl let out a small gasp of surprise as she filled the bath, and Jaskier only smiled and set his clothes down in the corner of the room. 

“Well, the soap and oil are in that cabinet. Feel free to use whatever, Jaskier. Are you hungry? I could fix you something?” Jaskier smiled at her because she was so incredibly sweet, he had only spoken to her a handful of times, yet she stood before him offering him a bath and food. He thought about the last time he had a meal it had been breakfast and thankfully he could get food from a sweet old lady in the village at the price of some labor. Fence building here, firewood gathering there, and on occasion a light song for her to listen to as she gardens. 

“A meal would be lovely,” he murmured. “I couldn’t impose, it’s quite late, and you’ve already done so much.” 

She waved a dismissive hand as she said, “I’ll fix something then. You bathe and you come out when you’re ready, alright?” 

“You’re a godsend.” 

She left him to get undressed and choose his soap and oils of choice, which he decided on lovely vanilla and lavender scent, and then he slid into the tub of lukewarm water. It wasn’t as hot as he would have wanted, but it was still a warm free bath. How could he complain? He soaked for a few moments before he began to wash the stink off of him, and then worked his hands into his hair. 

After a much-needed bath, he redressed and went to find the girl, and when he found her, she was by the fireplace stirring a pot. “Feel better?” She asked without looking at him. 

“Much.” 

“I whipped up some stew, admittedly it was leftover from when I ate earlier, so it’s not fresh but I promise it's still good.” 

For a while, they ate in silence, but then Jaskier perked up enough for conversation. “Why are you so nice? Not many would help a Witcher to a healer or offer an annoying bard dinner and a bath.” 

The girls sat, thinking for a long while until she sighed. “My father was a Witcher.” 

“Father?!” Jaskier almost spat out his stew in shock. He thought Witchers were sterilized. The girl smiled and stood up to retrieve a small drawing as she handed it to Jaskier. She looked almost proud. “I didn’t know Witchers could be fathers.” 

“I use the term loosely. He found me in the woods when I was twelve, I was tired, cold, and hungry. He saved me that night. Took me in as his own.” Jaskier stared at the drawing, sketched carefully, and so detailed he felt like he was looking at the real thing. He held it like it was a delicate flower and examined it with an artist’s eye. “He drew that for me on my fifteenth birthday,” she said. Jaskier flipped it over to read the note on the back. 

_ To my dearest Sophia,  _

__

_ I gift you this drawing as a token of my love for you. You’ve proved to me, something I thought wasn’t possible. Happy Birthday.  _

__

_ Love,  _

__

_ Your Dad. _

__

Jaskier felt tears well up in his eyes and he quickly scrunched them shut to calm himself down before he moved on with the conversation. “How did he?” 

“Die? As all Witchers do. On a job. One day he was kissing my head and telling me to behave and that he’d be back in four moons and the next I was getting a letter telling me he was killed.” Something flickered across Sophia’s face, not sadness, but perhaps anger. Jaskier decided not to push it, a thing he’s learned to do from one to many suckers punches to the stomach not all from Geralt- surprisingly Geralt only gave him one. 

“Did you know Geralt then?” Jaskier handed her the picture back, and she carefully tucked it back onto her mantle. She sighed and nodded her head. 

“He came to my father’s funeral. That’s the only time I met him, and I’ll admit he was younger then. My father would have wanted me to help him, it’s what he taught me to do, and I want to honor his memory by helping Witchers and people alike.” 

They fell into another silence, they finished their late-night meal, and exhaustion really began to settle in Jaskier’s muscles. His head refused to lighten the insistent pounding, and he still felt a little woozy from the night’s ale. “I should be going now,” He said and yawned to prove. “Be a shame to let a perfectly good room go to waste after I worked so hard for it.” 

Sophia laughed. “I’m sure you did. Really must’ve been grueling work.” 

Jaskier batted his eyelashes with a sly smile. “You’ve seen the inn’s keep, it was just as grueling as you’d imagine, but a duty had to be fulfilled.” Jaskier dramatically placed the back of his hand against his forehead causing Sophia to laugh. “I’ll see you again, Sophia. Thank you for your hospitality and thank you from Geralt too because gods know you won’t get anything more than a grateful grunt.”

As Jaskier left the small village home his happy aura faded to a blue, and he allowed his shoulders to droop a little as he went back to the porch of the healer’s. It would have been smart to go back to the inn and sleep off the rest of the ale that still buzzed in his system, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he could be sure of Geralt’s situation. Part of him still didn’t believe he was here, and another part was elated to have him back in close proximity. Though, if Geralt was in town looking like that, then the trouble was sure to follow. 

^ 

By the time the sun was high in the sky, the healer came out to see Jaskier with a paper and pen and lute in his lap. He was strumming lazily, pen in his mouth, and paper scribbled on. His eyes were shut seeming to be lost in the melancholy of the song he was writing. “Up, boy.” She sneered. “Come see your Witcher and quit crowding my porch.” 

Jaskier hurried to his feet and nervously fussed with his shirt and fussed over his hair while the healer watched with an annoyed face. “Does he want to see me?” Jaskier asked nervously. “We didn’t part ways on a good note, but maybe he asked for me? Jaskier? Jask? Or maybe he just called me bard? Or perhaps my other name Julian or a rather embarrassing one Dandelion? Gods I’m so nervous! Did I mention we didn’t part on a good note? In fact, it’s quite the story-”

“He isn’t awake, boy. I just want you off my porch,” she stated. Jaskier nodded and worried on his lip for a moment as he followed her into her house. He’s been to a handful of healers’ houses and tents, but this was by far the most luxurious one he had been too. Crystals and expensive fabrics encased the interior. Old books lining the walls and bottles filled to the brim on shelves. Plants grew excessively from their pots, and what struck Jaskier the most was the young man sat on the couch. His shirt undone to his belly button, his hair wild and untamed, and pants unlaced. He looked up at the healer with a doe-eyed look and for a moment Jaskier wondered if maybe his song disrupted something between the two and that was why she was so sour toward him. 

The healer seemed to float through her house, which was rather spacious on the inside, she gently touched the man’s cheek as she passed and led Jaskier clear to the back. Jaskier faintly remembered that wasn’t where he put Geralt the night before. She must’ve moved him. Or maybe he moved. “He’s still under a healing potion I whipped up, so he may not wake and if he does, he may be a little unearthly.” 

“Oh,” Jaskier seemed at a loss for words as his heart hammered in his chest. He began to feel dizzy, and his head began to fill with fog as the lady opened the door and stepped aside to let Jaskier in. He was frozen in his boots. He fussed his hair and shirt again. 

“Well go on,” the lady huffed. “I thought he was your friend?” 

“He is,” Jaskier nodded. He walked in approaching the bed carefully. Turned back toward the healer only to see her disappear. At least he wouldn’t have to be embarrassed if Geralt woke and yelled at him. At the sight of his Witcher, his shoulders slumped, his heart swelled, and he felt like he couldn’t breathe right. Geralt looked cleaner than before, still in need of a good bath, but yet still looked better than he did. Bandages wrapped around his midsection and over his shoulder. He had an abundance of new scars layering his body, yet he looked almost peaceful in his sleep. “You’ve got some nerve,” Jaskier whispered. “Yelling at me, telling me to fuck off, never writing, never checking on me, and then one day you come to my home on death’s door expecting me to care for you?!” He could feel the tension take its place back in his shoulders and back. He was angry at Geralt. So, fucking angry at him for so many things. He took a deep breath and sat on the edge of the bed. 

“You can be a real asshole,” He continued. “You didn’t even tell me Witchers could die, I don’t know what I thought happened, but I certainly didn’t know you could die. I thought you would just live forever. Silly me,” Jaskier paused and carefully leaned over Geralt to move a strand of hair from his face. He was beautiful, so beautiful it hurt Jaskier to stare at him any longer. He looked away and put his hands in his lap and stared at them instead. “I could take your bad attitude, your grumpiness, and every grunt or ‘shut up, Jaskier.’ Or ‘Stop singing, Jaskier.’ Or ‘Stop being so annoying, Jaskier.’ I could have taken it because I’d still be with you. I still had hope for us. What makes you such an asshole, and what I absolutely couldn’t take was how you broke my heart.” Jaskier squeezed his hands together, his knuckles turning white. His eyes burned with tears that he refused to relinquish over Geralt’s sleeping form. “You chose her time and time again, and you yelled at me because you lost her. You loved her, didn’t you?” Jaskier sucked in a harsh breath. “Of course, you did. What wasn’t there to love? She’s outrageously beautiful- no doubt about that. Who couldn’t become transfixed with those violet eyes? Hmm?” He sniffled and quickly wiped at his eyes. “I’m just a silly bard that talks himself into trouble, who sleeps with the wrong noble, and sure I’m not ugly by any means. I’m not her. I’m sorry I can’t be her.”

"She’s gone,” a rough, gravelly voice all but whispered. Jaskier jolted off the bed. He looked down at Geralt only to be met with golden eyes, blinking at him softly, and suddenly Jaskier was nervous again fiddling with his shirt and then his hair. 

“Oh! Uh! Geralt?! Been awake long?” He moved around the room to busy himself. He poured a cup of water from the pitcher and helped Geralt take a few long sips before setting it down and setting on straightening up the room. “I’ll go now, busy me you know, uhm uh anyone I should send for? Yennefer perhaps? Sure, she’d be worried by now,” He laughed nervously stumbling over his own feet to get to the door. “I assume you’ve reconciled. Must have! At least that’s what the birds whisper,” he laughed again and waved his hand. 

“We didn’t-” Geralt grunted. 

“Uhm I’ll let the healer know you’re awake! Some food would do you good, far too lean for a Witcher, uhm, and more water! You need water! I’ll see you get a bath too!” 

“Jaskier.” 

“Oh! No worries about Roach either! Found her earlier and put her up at the Inn I’m staying in. She’s surely getting fat from all the treats the kids are sneaking her.” 

“Bard.” 

“What else? Am I missing something?” Jaskier looked around the room. His heart pounding, his hands shaking, desperate to keep talking enough to get him through the door. “Clothes! I’ll have someone bring you something fresh from your packs!”

“Dandelion.” 

Jaskier stopped in his tracks and helplessly stared at Geralt who was having a minor struggle to sit up, and Jaskier worried his bottom lip and then reached out a hand without moving from his spot in the doorway. “You really shouldn’t-” 

“Not another word,” Geralt said. His voice sharp and voice rumbled deep in his chest. As he sat up to face the bard properly. Jaskier felt the need to run, to get away as fast as he could because he just couldn’t bear it. His heart was healing quite nicely after the whole dragon fiasco and didn’t want for it to break all over again. “C’mere.” Jaskier swallowed thickly and obeyed, stepping a few feet toward Geralt. He was at the end of the bed fiddling with the blanket that still covered Geralt’s legs. “Yennefer and I are done.” 

Jaskier let out a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding. Jaskier didn’t know what to say. For a man so fluent with words, so graceful, so talkative that he couldn’t stop babbling even with a knife held to his throat by an enemy. He was at a loss for words. He didn’t want to assume anything about the statement, so he stayed quiet. “No remarks from the bard?” Geralt asked. His tone was almost teasing. Jaskier felt small as he shook his head. “Are you scared of me?” 

The thing about Jaskier was that he wasn’t scared or nervous around Geralt. He always managed to stare even the angriest glares down without even blinking, and he always told Geralt he wasn’t afraid. “You wouldn’t hurt me,” he’d smile. That fucking smile. So bright and pure. So innocent. “You secretly like me. I know it.” It was true. Geralt liked the bard, he liked him very much so. 

Jaskier was never afraid of Geralt. Never nervous in front of him. The poor lad had too much confidence than he knew what to do with. He stood there. At the foot of Geralt’s bed, blue eyes wide and red, and his bottom lip captured in his teeth. The smell of fear invading Geralt’s heightened nose, and it made him frown a bit, so he fought through the groggy and messy state of his mind to try to explain to Jaskier what was going on. “Why are you scared?”

Jaskier went back up but Geralt grabbed his hand and pulled him around the side of the bed. His golden eyes poured into Jaskier like he was seeing right through him, and it only made Jaskier squirm. He shook his head and pulled his hand away from Geralt and cradled it in his lap. “I’m not scared of you,” Jaskier said his tone had a bite to it. “Jesus! You really are oblivious aren’t you!”

“Jask I know you’re scared of something, please tell me?”

“It’s not because you’re a Witcher, I’ve never been scared of that and shame of you for fucking thinking that, I am scared I’m not strong enough to do this with you.”

Geralt looked at him with confused golden eyes, and Jaskier sighed and dryly chuckled to himself as he pushed himself up from the bed. “You, Geralt of Rivia, broke my heart. I don’t know if I can just ignore it this time.”

Life seemed to flame behind Geralt’s eyes, and he grabbed Jaskier’s hand again staring at him earnestly. “I won’t,” He said honestly. “Please, just trust me this once. I do, have feelings for you, and it’s new to me I-”

Jaskier pulled his hand away and backed away from Geralt, anger running hot through his veins. “No,” He said firmly. “You don’t get to do that! You don’t get to ignore my advances for all these years, choose Yennefer at any given chance, and then kick me to the bin when you’re done with companions! Just no!” Jaskier’s face turned a bright red, his eyes lowered in a harsh glare, and he even looked close to tears. 

“I told you, Yennefer and I, we aren’t together anymore. Jask I choose you.”

“You wished destiny to take me off your hands! That’s as good as wishing me dead! Choosing me? Ballocks is what I say to that!” Jaskier couldn’t believe it. Geralt finally lost it completely, so Jaskier did what he did in ridiculous situations he laughed. It was dry and cruel, and it made Geralt frown as he watched Jaskier as he began to pace in mindless strides within the small room. “Those potions must really have gotten to ya,” Jaskier giggled again. “You’ve gone completely mad! I’m not your fucking second choice, I am no man’s second choice! Just because things have blown up in your face with Yennefer- which anyone could have guessed -does not mean that I will be here to pick up your broken pieces, Geralt of Rivia.” He paused to take a strangled breath because gods he was worked up. “Don’t be fooled, Witcher I know my worth! I deserve  _ love _ ! I deserve someone who will tell me they love me-”

“But I-”

“No, listen to me for once! I know I babble, and you find it irritating and have probably learned to tune me out,” Jaskier couldn’t stop the tears now. They streamed over his red cheeks, they were fat and hot, and he could taste the salt on his tongue. “I deserve someone who treats me well, who doesn’t bully me, who listens. Fucking listens! Geralt, I can’t just keep following you around like a sick puppy you just neglect.”

Geralt tried to form words. Tried to think of ways to go about this delicately, but to be honest he didn’t even know what to say to that. He wanted to be that for Jaskier, but he didn’t know-how. Jaskier chuckled again and tilted his head at Geralt. “I’m not just a warm body or hand that you can come crawling to when you’re lonely, and when Yennefer isn’t answering your calls.” Jaskier felt himself calm down, and he walked toward the door leaving a stunned silence which brought an odd satisfaction to him. “See you around, Geralt.”

^

In a few days, Jaskier was acting as if everything was back to normal. He drank, he sang, and he avoided Geralt with everything that he could. It was considerably easy considering the Witcher was still under the Healer’s care. Jaskier grew closer to Sophia, finally gaining a friend and not someone to just bed after a long night of drinking. 

The thing about Jaskier was that he did often fall in lust, but it wasn’t what he craved. He craved warmth, intimacy, and the bittersweet taste of pure love. Someone that wasn’t gone in the morning, that didn’t leave after the deed was done, and he wanted someone to hold or to hold him after just so he could feel loved. He hadn’t found it yet, and he doubted he ever will, he was a performer for people to grab at, and when he was grabbed and bedded, he was expected to perform. Hideaway his true self and perform for whoever was under him, or over him for that matter. It didn’t matter, he was still young, and his heart was sore from the cracks caused by one strong Witcher. 

The thing about Geralt was that he loved watching Jaskier perform. Jaskier could captivate a crowd. He could strum his lute, sing as energetically as his voice allowed, and he would wink and flirt with anyone he connected eyes with as he sang. Geralt had a pint of ale in front of him, and gold eyes trained on Jaskier. He desperately hoped if he stared long enough that Jaskier would see him, connect eyes with him and toss a flirty wink in his direction, but when those blues did meet his gold Jaskier stumbled. He may have been a clumsy shit, but he never forgot lyrics or missed a chord. He did when he saw Geralt. But Jaskier was a showman, he recovered and averted his gaze, and moved around the room with expert precision. People tossed coins at Jaskier’s feet, shouted praise, and even a few grabbed at him with which he’d playfully tut at them and shake his head. That set a green monster free inside of Geralt. How dare people grab at him, touch his ass, and grab at his clothes like they own him. They didn’t. Nobody could. 

Jaskier closed out his final song, people shouted out more praises, and he bowed and soaked it all up as he picked up his coin and then sauntered to the bar. People went back to drinking, few surrounded him to talk about songs, or about whatever came to mind. Geralt sighed, grabbed his pint, and walked over to Jaskier causing people to stare wide-eyed and flee. Jaskier sighed and lazily looked over at the Witcher. “I liked that song,” Geralt gritted out. He wasn’t looking at Jaskier, he was staring- glaring into his ale. Jaskier snorted. 

“Well witch one, I sang plenty of them, so you have to be specific.”

“C’mon Jask.” Geralt sighed, his eyes pleading, but Jaskier only met him with an uncaring stare. Geralt switched tactics. “I like your outfit,” He mumbled. “Brings out your eyes.”

Jaskier turned in his seat, a teasing smile fighting its way to his lips, and He shifted again in his sleep. “Is  _ the  _ White Wolf trying to flirt with me?” 

Oh, Jaskier wasn’t going to make this easy. He was still angry and hurt. Geralt shouldn’t have it made easy on him. “Jaskier,” Geralt growled. “I’m trying. Just not used to it.”

“What? Used to actually putting effort into bedding someone? Or used to paying me an actual compliment?”

Geralt looked away and sighed. A pained expression flashed across his face and he turned back to Jaskier. “You know Witcher’s can’t-”

“Ah-ah!” Jaskier interrupted. “Don’t pull that bull on me! I know that Witchers have emotions! You fell in love with Yennefer! Sophia had an adoptive Father that was a Witcher!”

“Dammit! It’s not easy! I’m not him, and I didn’t love Yennefer. It was primal-”

“Please, save me the horny details!”

“Would you stop that?!”

“Stop what?” Jaskier moved closer. Staring down the Witcher with an icy stare. Geralt’s jaw clenched. They were mere centimeters apart, and Jaskier’s breath was uneven, and his chest heaving. Geralt broke first, his head tilting to the side and his eyes flickering over the bard’s face. 

“I’m trying,” Geralt whispered almost lost over the chatter among the tavern guests. “You’re not a second choice to me.” 

Jaskier shook his head suddenly very seriously, which was an odd look for Jaskier and Geralt decided he didn’t like it, but Jaskier only sighed again and shook his head. “Geralt,” He seemed at a loss of words. “That’s just hard to believe right now.” With that He slung his lute over his shoulder and left, causing some men to call out to him and a few people to wolf whistle at him. Geralt glared at them. 

^

He left the Tavern an hour after Jaskier left to go check on Roach, only surprised to hear a soft voice talking to her, and it was too dark to see who it was. But the scent of vanilla and amber, too familiar not to know.

“Oh Roach,” He sighed. “I wish I could just get past it. Leave it for another day, go on an adventure with you and him, but I’m too faint of heart. I’ll meet an early grave if I have to keep up this- this charade of not caring.” He leaned against her, his hand lazily stroking her shoulder in a lazy circle. “If only you could talk, hm? Give some useful advice.” Roach snorted and shook her mane. “Knock some sense into your master?”

Geralt stepped out of the shadow then, a small smile displaying over his lips. “Jaskier.”

“Oh! I was just visiting!” Jaskier put his hands up only for an apple to fall from his person, which Roach happily ate up. Geralt tilted his head as his chest grew tighter, and then fell once he noticed the sudden change in the smell of Jaskier. From his usual vanilla and amber to a sour and bitter smell. Heartbreak. 

“She missed you,” Geralt said as he walked over to scratch Roach’s head. “I think she missed hearing you sing while we travel.” They weren’t looking at each other, but Geralt’s presence was enough to make a tidal wave of emotion flood over him. It was nice to have Geralt back, and Jaskier wouldn’t lie; he was enjoying making Geralt squirm for his attention- for his affection. 

“Did she?” Jaskier asked as he gingerly scratched behind Roach’s ears. Gerald hummed- one that was agreeable to Jaskier’s statements. Geralt casually picked up a brush so he could give Roach a proper brush, and so he had an excuse to not look directly at Jaskier and his hurt baby blues. “I missed her too,” Jaskier said. “Despite not ever talking, she was an excellent company, and it broke my heart to have to leave without a proper goodbye.”

“She had trouble sleeping,” Geralt murmured as he leaned down to brush down Roach’s leg freeing the dirt and his dried blood from her fur. This time Jaskier hummed, throwing a quick glance toward Geralt as his heart leaped, and he moved to the opposite side away from Geralt to run his fingers through her mane. 

“Did she? I didn’t think she noticed,” Jaskier kept his voice steady, cold even. 

Geralt sighed, “Of course she noticed. She always noticed when you weren’t there.”

Jaskier’s heart clenched. He focused on looking at Roach’s mane and braiding it in pretty and loose strands. Geralt continued, “She’s also sorry you were hurt, and she would like to have a chance to make it up to you.”

Jaskier peaked over at his Witcher to see his jaw flexing, eyes trained on his task of getting the muck off his horse, and Jaskier decided he’d play the little game that they started- that  _ he  _ started. Jaskier went back to his braiding, Roach snorted, and they both smiled at her because clearly, she was adoring the pampering. “Oh? Well, it’s not her fault that her master is an obtuse idiot who is also selfish and doesn’t care about who he hurts because he assumed the dumb little bard would take him back every time. It’s also not her fault that her master doesn’t have guts to actually look the person he’s talking to in the face and apologizes, and instead decided he would apologize through a bloody fucking horse!” There was a strong bite to his words, anger flushing up through his body, and his scent changing to a hot spice that burned Geralt’s nose. 

“Jaskier,” Geralt sighed. He could feel the golden eyes staring holes through him, and he wanted to squirm, and part of him even wanted to apologize. He bit his tongue, stamped his foot, and didn’t even give Geralt a glance. “I am sorry.”

“Are you now?” Jaskier asked and dipped under Roach’s head to go to the side Geralt was on. He placed his hands on his hips, his chest was heaving up and down, and his face was beat red while the scent of his anger only grew stronger. 

“I shouldn’t have said what I said,” Geralt sighed and turned to face him. “I was angry.”

“Well angry words are the same as drunk, they are the unspoken truth.”

“I didn’t mean them.”

“That implies you said them to hurt me then, and that may just be worse!”

Geralt let out an aggravated groan as the scent of Jaskier’s anger soaked up any free oxygen, it entered Geralt’s nose and swarmed around in his head, and it made his eyes burn like they were melting out of their sockets. “What can I do then?” Geralt was close to pleading now, close but not there. 

“Figure it out!” Jaskier huffed. “Gods! I can’t tell you what to do here.” The smell of amber and vanilla dissipated, and a new smell flooded the area around them, reeking of a bitter smell of sorrow, the burnt ash of anger, and the stale smell of frustration. Geralt moved into Jaskier’s space, but Jaskier moved away from him before he got a chance to do anything that would force the Bard to forget his morals and his ground and allow Geralt to continuously break a piece of him off and consume it until there was nothing left. “If you’re serious,” Jaskier mumbled, his voice calm and even. “really think about it and figure it out.” 

The thing about Jaskier was all he really wanted was to feel loved by his Witcher, and the thing about Geralt was he had no idea where to even begin with gaining Jaskier’s trust back. 

^

There was nothing more Jaskier loved than the attention of strangers. It was why he loved performing so much, the applause, the begging for another, and the compliments and praises were thrown his way made him feel like he was constantly floating through the air. Tonight was no different. The tavern was packed with new faces, regulars chased out by tourists who caught whiff of the famous bard, and they were practically eating Jaskier alive. Jaskier, well he was loving the attention. Coin rained around him all night, men and women alike attempted to grope at him, and like always he’d brush it off and saunter away. 

After he sang a plethora of songs, including new ones he had been trying out, and four rounds of ‘Toss a Coin’ he looked over the sea of people from his stance on the bar table. “I fear I cannot sing anymore!” He shouted and winced at the dull ache in his through. His voice was raspy, and it sounded tired. They tossed more coins and offered to buy him more ale despite the fact that he was already swaying on his feet. “Ladies, gentlemen, others! I cannot go on! I much rather mingle with you all!” He tossed a flirty wink at a man below him, and easily he jumped from the counter stumbling once he landed on his feet only into the arms of a large man. “My hero!” He giggled. He moved away back to the bar to flag down a barmaid. 

He ordered another drink slurring all the while. “Another beer, my fair lady! Make that two for my- my new friend! What’s your name?”

“Thomas,” The man who had caught Jaskier said as he moved closer, Jaskier could feel his breath on his cheek and his arm brushed against his chest. Jaskier smiled widely at him, a grin that was a little watery, and then turned back to the barmaid to make sure she was getting him a beer. Then in true Jaskier fashion, he began telling stories behind his songs as Thomas listened. He drank on Jaskier’s coin, and Jaskier’s stories only became more elaborate. While Jaskier was leaning against the bar he felt someone press up against his back, he made a show of it and turned to see a lovely face. Red lips and brown eyes, and her hair pulled up in perfect blonde ringlets. 

Jaskier was caught between Thomas and the woman- Elena -flirting with both of them too drunk to really even be completely coherent. Everything was going fine until he felt the sharp nails of a lady, he jumped in surprise, turning to her, and as he always did, he played it off with charm and an uneasy smile. “Let’s keep our hands to ourselves, shall we? Leave some to the mystery of mind!” He laughed and gulped the rest of his ale down. 

Elena leaned in the bar, her breasts against the wood, and practically spilling from her corset. Thomas trapped him by leaning on the bar too. The sound of the coin hitting the bar table caused Jaskier to start, he stared at the shiny coin with confusion written as plain as day, and Thomas was beginning to squeeze Jaskier’s bicep. “An hour for your,” Thomas’ nails bit through the fabric of his doublet, and his voice dropped to a husky whisper as he said, “ _ services.” _

__

“Oh! No! I don’t” 

“It’s good coin, and don’t pretend you couldn’t use it.” 

Jaskier felt panic set in, deep in his chest, and he looked around helplessly not sure who or what he was looking for. “It’s rude to make this uhm transaction uhm in front of a lady more important so your  _ wife.”  _ Jaskier could feel his cheeks redden and he blamed the drink running through his veins. Thomas’ grip was tightening around Jaskier’s arm, and the bard yanked his arm away. 

“She doesn’t mind,” Thomas’ grin was evil, and his eyes were lustful. Jaskier looked at Elena with a plea. “Do ya sweetheart?” 

“Not if you share,” she grinned and snuck a hand behind Jaskier and squeezed his ass. He yelped and moved away from the couple staring at them a plea already on his tongue. 

“You’re sorely mistaken! This is no brothel and I’m no prostitute!” Jaskier fumbled over his words, and the couple only scoffed at his response, and Jaskier looked around again for anything to excuse himself politely. 

“We’ve heard different,” Elena purred, pressing up against him. He could feel her breasts, her hands on him, and he went to wiggle away, but then Thomas pressed against him his hard cock shown through his trousers. “We heard you’d fuck anything for a bit of coin, maybe even for luxury.” Jaskier bit his lip and desperately looked around once again, he wasn’t sure what or who he was looking for, but he was met with a full bar ignoring what was happening to him. Panic intensified. His chest hurt, and he was shaking in his boots. 

“The coin is good,” Thomas whispered against his ear. “Surely if you’ll fuck the Witcher you’ll fuck us.” 

“I- don’t- no! I said no,” he moved out from them, his eyebrows furrowing. “I’m awfully sorry, but I must retire for the night. Pleasure,” he bowed and exited the Tavern with his head still spinning. He felt as if he may throw up, and he quickly went to the side of the Tavern and leaned against the wall allowing the cool night. 

The thing about being a bard was people thought they owned you. Confused performance with prostitution. They thought that just because they tossed a few tokens of gratitude toward him, or because he flirted and winked at them as he danced around the room that he belonged to them. They were owned by them. He was a performer; it was an act and had been for a long time. Even more so after he began traveling with Geralt. It was hard to get a sense of worth, a sense of self when everyone he’d met already wanted to offer him coins for the night. 

He was breathing hard when he heard footsteps. Without looking up he already launched into a rant. “I already told you and your wife! I don’t do that, and I will never do that. Just because I’ve slept with the innkeeper for a room does not fucking mean I sleep for luxury or money!” He was shaking, and his voice was strained. 

“Jask?” 

The voice was all too familiar. It was deep and gravelly and all kinds of heaven to Jaskier’s ears. It did two things to Jaskier to realize Geralt was attempting to talk to him. 1. Light a white-hot fire in the very bit of his belly causing anger to run through his entire body. And 2. Sigh in relief because now nobody could hurt him. 

“Jaskier? What was that about? Were people trying to take advantage of you in there?” 

Alcohol had always been a sort of truth serum. “Of course,” He said casually and swiped at his eyes in case of any tears that had slipped. “I’m a bard.” 

“Doesn’t warrant people groping at you,” Geralt sighed. He stepped closer and Jaskier took a step back. “Who was it?” 

“What? So, you can go break some skulls?” Jaskier asked. “Yeah. No. I’m not being the cause of someone's death. They asked. I denied. No harm was done.” 

“They touched you. Didn’t they?” At Jaskier’s stunned silence and watery eyes. “I can smell it, the fear and them, I assume.” 

Jaskier’s jaw clenched and he narrowed his eyes at his Witcher. He wanted to scream at him. “How dare you,” Jaskier growled stepping close. His pointer finger jabbed harshly in Geralt’s chest. “Making those types of accusations! Jesus!” 

Geralt stood in his stoic silence, he understood that Jaskier was angry with him, but he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to fix things if Jaskier wouldn’t give him the time of day. Jaskier was clearly too worked up to even  _ think  _ about what the Witcher meant to him. “Just because you’re a bard doesn’t give them a reason to hurt you, and I’ll leave them alone if that’s what you wish.” 

Jaskier sniffled and placed his hands on his hips. He needed a bath. “It’s my own fault, reputation, and all.”

Geralt stepped closer. “None of that,” He said softly and stepped into Jaskier’s space. He gently took a rough hand and wiped at Jaskier’s cheek. He was so hurt, violated, and he just wanted the warmth Geralt was providing. He leaned into Geralt’s touch and sniffled again. Truly, he thought, a pathetic mess. “Please,” Geralt pleaded. “Tell me how to fix it.” 

Jaskier sighed and lifted his smaller hand to grip Geralt’s and removed it from his cheek. His blue eyes held so much pain, blurry with tears, and slightly pink from being intoxicated. “Defeats the purpose if I tell you,” Jaskier said. “You’d just be repeating what I want, and then I’ll never know if you truly mean it.” 

“But I-”

“No,” Jaskier stepped away from Geralt, stumbling as he did. “On your own.” 

^ 

Geralt was frustrated. Beyond frustrated. He spent the last few days trying to figure out what to do to get Jaskier back. He tried to figure it out, and he was still at a loss. He then thought about giving up, leaving the bard to his own devices, and going to find a contract in a different town. Maybe going back to Yennefer, maybe she’d be easier to sway, but then he thought there laid the problem. Every time things got tough, he ran to her, he went to her when he wanted to feel, and all along he had Jaskier who he abused and took for granted. How would he be able to fix that? He wasn’t sure. He was almost to Jaskier’s room when a man burst from in, shirt still open and hair a mess. 

He had planned to ask Jaskier to take a walk with him, maybe they could talk, or something he wasn’t quite sure. He reached the door that was still slightly open. 

Jaskier stood there wrapped in a cheap sheet as he stared at the table and a small pile of coins. He looked wrecked. Hair clearly pulled, and bruises on his back and shoulders. It filled Geralt’s mouth with a sour taste. Jealousy bubbling up in his throat. He knocked on the door probably harsher than he intended. “Come in,” Jaskier sighed. Geralt carefully entered the room. “What do you want?” 

“I’m not sure how to fix this,” Geralt admitted honestly. His eyes flickered to the coin on the table. He tried not to assume, but the stench of what had just happened was still strong. He hated it. It didn’t smell like Jaskier. Not even a little bit. “I thought I could maybe teach you how to sword combat? If you’re interested.” 

Jaskier crossed his legs over one another and Geralt looked away and forced the unwanted images of pressing Jaskier into the bed and changing the smell of the room. “Fighting? Why?” 

“To protect yourself,” Geralt nodded. As if to assure himself it wasn’t just an excuse to spend time with his oh so lovely bard. “If you won’t let me protect you, then you should at least know how to protect yourself.” 

“Fine. Give me a moment, won’t you? I have to clean up.” 

They were pouring sweat, Jaskier had been pinned with a sword to his throat for the umpteenth time, and they were both breathing hard from the vigorous training they both were enduring. “Oh, it’s useless!” Jaskier’s breath fanned over Geralt’s face. “I’m just bard. Not a swordsman.” 

“Jask,” Geralt sighed, only acutely aware of the feeling of Jaskier being pressed against him, and he knew he should move away but he stilled. Removing the sword from Jaskier’s throat only to balance on his forearms above Jaskier. “It's only been a few hours. You still have to learn.” 

Geralt rolled off of Jaskier and stayed on his side to stare at his bard. Jaskier looked to be thinking- overthinking. He had that look, crunched up brow, and prompt frown. “Penny for your thoughts?” Geralt asked. The phrase was weird and sour on his own tongue as memories of a playful bard bumping his shoulder and asking the same question over a bland dinner and warm fire. 

“I pale in comparison to the mighty White Wolf,” Jaskier said. Geralt furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, his bard was usually so boastful, and to hear him be down on himself was awful and Geralt didn’t like it. Then it was like a sudden clarity came over him, just maybe that was what Jaskier truly wanted from Geralt. Just to be looked at as an equal, to love him as much as Jaskier loved Geralt, and to be validated as more than a bard. He only saw himself as a bard and that was it. He saw himself as pathetic, and probably even weak all because he depended so much on Geralt to protect him. 

“Don’t say that,” Geralt huffed. Words tugged at his vocal cords trying to claw their way out of his mouth to just explain how wrong he is. “You’re not pathetic,” he said sternly. Jaskier’s face morphed in offense and hurt as he processed what Geralt had just said. Geralt suddenly gasped as Jaskier jumped up and realized he fucked up again. “Wait! No!” 

“Real nice Geralt! I never said I was fucking pathetic!” 

Geralt was up on his feet chasing after Jaskier who was still ranting, and Geralt could feel the guilt blossom inside his chest. The words clawed out of his mouth. “I didn’t mean that!” He said quickly. Jaskier turned around to scowl at who was  _ his  _ Witcher. “I meant you’re not weak!” The goddamn words just weren’t working. He already began an apology as Jaskier’s face turned to one of surprise. 

“Why! I oughta slap you! I would if I thought it’d actually hurt you!” Jaskier had fury written clear on his face, the cracks in his heart deepened, and he did everything in his power to try not to cry in front of the big bad Witcher. Sure, Jaskier thought those things of himself. He always had, he wasn’t strong like other boys, and he was useless in battle compared to Geralt. Decades of traveling with him proved that he couldn’t even begin to count the near-death experiences, and the times he’d been forced to stay behind all because he was too injured to continue. He constantly complained while they trekked on. 

“No! Fuck!” Geralt groaned in agitation. “You’re stronger than you realize,” He tried again in a slow manner really allowing his words to hit Jaskier. “You don’t compare to me because I'm a mutant- hell no human compares. You don’t compare to me because you’re the embodiment of good, Jaskier. You have this light about you, it shines brighter than anyone I’ve ever known, and you’re able to befriend everyone and anyone even an enemy. You’re thoughtful, compassionate, passionate, and I admire that about you. Not many humans would stalk up to a moody Witcher and carry conversation let alone follow him across the world.”

Every word had been like vomit spewing from his mouth. After he broke that dam of years of training, wall building, forcing emotions away, and being told he can’t share his emotions it all came up. Jaskier stood there, his hands clenched, stiff, but scowl wiped away from his face. For once, Jaskier, the infamous bard whose mouth got him more often into trouble than out, was at a loss for words. If Witcher’s had the ability to blush Geralt would have been beet red. Jaskier’s mouth opened and closed trying to figure out how he felt about those words, and how he wanted to address it. Geralt looked as if he may pass out from waiting for Jaskier’s response. 

“You believe that?” Jaskier asked. 

“Yes,” Geralt nodded. “You’re not physically strong-”

“Geralt!” 

“Let me finish,” Geralt sighed. “You’re not physically strong, but mentally and emotionally you’re the strongest I know. Got guts too. That’s the only reason I even considered to let you travel because after that first punch to the gut- hell the first glare anyone would have run. You didn’t.” Geralt paused and stepped closer to Jaskier. “I am sorry. Those words I yelled at you were of anger and jealousy of your resilience and optimism. I never meant them, not a single word, and losing you made me realize that I-” Geralt sucked in a breath. Words back to clawing his throat as he yanked them out. “Maybesortakindaneedyou.” 

Jaskier hid a grin as he stepped closer, putting a hand to his ear. “Must be goin’ deaf with age, what was that?” 

“Maybe,” Geralt spat. “I kind of,” he forced out. “Need you,” he said quietly. 

Jaskier couldn’t stop the grin then. He straightened up and gave Geralt a beaming smile. “I know what you want and need now,” Geralt said with a firm nod. “Give me the chance to regain you as a partner in my travels.”

Jaskier mocked a thoughtful expression just to really give Geralt a reason to sweat a little more. He eventually sighs and shifts all his weight to one side and gives Geralt an easy smile. “Fine.” He says. “Mark my words, this will be the last chance I give you.” 

“‘S all need,” Geralt said. With that, the two started back training and if Geralt allowed Jaskier to pin him here and there well then surely that would be between them and the wildflowers. 

^

Geralt was going to be sure to woo the breeches off of Jaskier. He knew that Jaskier just wanted to be validated and seen as more than just a little bard. He wasn’t quite sure how he was going to woo, but he assumed that small gestures would be a good way to work up the relationship. Compliments and praises of his music seemed to go for a long away- as long as his words worked and didn’t put him in a messy position. It still just wasn’t enough. Jaskier wanted to feel validated, yes. Still, he was constantly complimented and praised by random strangers at the tavern every time he sang. He thought that maybe actions would be better than words. So, he’d force himself to break the habit of being grouchy and smile when Jaskier looked over at him during a song. He’d order Jaskier ale and food for after he finished, and he always walked him back to the inn. Jaskier seemed to appreciate it, and he practically beamed pure light when Geralt talked about which songs he liked most. 

The thing was Jaskier had people flirting with him all the time, singing his praises on his music, and of course his good luck. People bought him ale too, and even some offered to walk him home. Geralt felt that he needed to go above and beyond to really grab Jaskier’s attention. To really show him that he was more than a bard for people to fawn over. That was when he hatched a plan to actually take Jaskier on an outing. Lucky for him he knew just the place.

Geralt after he was promptly kicked out of the healer’s home tried to get a room, but for whatever reason, the innkeeper refused service and promptly told him to ‘sod off’. This resulted in the only place open is the stables in a pile of hay outside of Roach’s stall. That resulted in him having to take more baths than usual, but since he couldn’t find a half-decent person to let him use their bath, he had to ride Roach to a stream that was in the woods. It was there he found the perfect spot to take Jaskier. It was a quite beautiful clearing where the stream started from a rocky stream waterfall, wildflowers bloomed around it, and trees created a thick wall of privacy around the clearing and stream. The only way out of the clearing was a narrow path that followed toward the town. Even though it was surrounded by trees they didn’t quite provide shade because they didn’t grow toward the middle but in a large, thick circle. It seemed magical even though Geralt didn’t detect any magic. He knew it was the type of beauty and the type of place that Jaskier would fall in love with, so he set out on Roach to bathe and to make the clearing look as perfect as he could. He even enlisted the help of Sophia so he could get it perfect in time for dusk. 

While Geralt planned his evening for Jaskier, Jaskier didn’t wake until the sun was already in the sky, still bright and early with morning air and the fresh dew laid on the grass. He had got up and headed over to a woman named Ms. Winnifred, she was well into her eighties, babied Jaskier like a grandmother would, and made sure he was well fed. He was going over there to have breakfast and tea, and while he was there would offer to fix anything that needed fixing. 

He arrived to see her on her porch already set out some food for them. “Hello! Winnie!” He greeted her brightly from her gate. She turned, squinted, and broke into a smile waving him on in. “Boy! Do I have a story to tell you!” he huffed as he sat on the porch in a rickety rocking chair. 

Winnie smiled at him from her seat in her own chair, “Don’t you always.”

“This one is no tall tale,” He leaned over the table. “It’s about the witcher.”

“The same who broke your heart?”

“The very same.”

Jaskier then launched into the story of the recent events that his Witcher had caused, and Ms. Winnifred listened closely offering opinions. When he finished their breakfast had successfully been eaten and tea drank. “I just, I don’t know what to do, Winnie. I love him, obviously. It’s just I don’t know if what he tells me is true, and he hurt me that day when he yelled at me that day. Yet, he’s been so sweet recently, but how do I know this isn’t just to get me back? I’m no stranger to compliments, bought drinks, or walks back to the inn, but with Geralt-” He sighed almost dreamily, and then worried his bottom lip looking to the old woman for advice. Winnie hummed and nodded as she was clearly thinking of advice. 

“You’re young,” She finally said as she scrubbed her chin. Jaskier almost snorted at that. “So, what I am going to tell you is the secret to love, and how I and my dear late wife survived for so long.” Jaskier leaned closer to her, desperate to learn the secret to love, something on how to make it last, and he was so desperately wanting things with Geralt to last. “Love is messy and it’s a pain in the ass.”

“Ms. Winnie, I don’t believe that! Love is love, it’s amazing, hot, tender, sweet, and perfect!”

“There lies your problem!” she pointed at him with a slender finger and raised eyebrows. “You expect it to be perfect, but it’s not, dear. You’ll fuck up, he’ll fuck up, and you will laugh about it. Oh, you both will fight like sworn enemies only to make up an hour later. Compromise. You can’t expect him to worship you and do everything for you. You have to look at it from his perspective, he’s a Witcher, and he’s trained not to love because it’s too messy. Witcher’s with feelings are Witcher’s who are found dead. Led to believe feelings make them weak, and it is up to people like you- people who see the good -to show them that feelings can make them stronger.” 

Jaskier’s shoulders dropped a bit as he thought about her words. “Don’t misunderstand me, he hurt you, and yes he must apologize and atone for it. Don’t keep chasing him away.” Jaskier nodded. After a few minutes, she told him what needed to be fixed and he got to work. As he worked, he thought about her words and thought about what she said about love. He didn’t want to believe it, but he supposed she was right. It made sense after all. It was definitely something to busy his thoughts as he worked. 

It took far longer than he expected, but it was finished and perfect for Jaskier. He didn’t want to admit it, but it was almost like a place from one of the bard’s songs. He thanked Sophia and offered her some coins, but she refused and said her father would’ve scolded her for taking his money. He rode back into the town bidding farewell to Sophia and stopped where he saw Jaskier. Red in the face, working in a yard seemingly repairing a window. Geralt smiled. “Jaskier,” He said in his signature stoic voice. He dismounted from Roach and walked to the fence meeting Jaskier there. Jaskier was pouring sweat, he was out of breath, and a little sunburned. It was a warm day for it to be heading so quickly into Autumn. “Do you have plans tonight?”

Jaskier sighed and stared at Geralt a little helplessly. “Tonight?” Jaskier blew out a heavy breath as he thought. “Supposed to perform, why?”

“Could you take the night off? I’d like to spend some time with you, dinner?”

“Why,” Jaskier smirked and put his hand against his unbuttoned shirt. It drew Geralt’s eyes to his chest, only a few buttons were undone, but still offered a view that still managed to get Geralt going. “The big bad white wolf asking me on a date?”

Geralt sighed exasperatedly, “Jaskier.”

“Fine,” He nodded. “Tonight. It best be a good one, or you’ll have to pay me the coin I’ll be losing tonight.”

Geralt only smiled and grabbed Jaskier’s hand and pressed a kiss to it and then mounted Roach once again leaving Jaskier to prepare for their date.

“Was that your Witcher?” Ms. Winnifred called. “Quite the catch I see. I can see why you’re so-”

“Hush, Winnie, he can still hear us perfectly, and I won’t give him that satisfaction.”

^

When the sun was close to setting, Jaskier met Geralt outside of the inn. Jaskier’s heart was beating rapidly in his chest as he gave Geralt a small smile, and Geralt pushed himself from where he was leaning on a tree to greet Jaskier with a kiss to his cheek. “Oh,” Jaskier gasped. “Uh, where are we headed? Tavern for dinner?”

“No,” Geralt grinned offering Jaskier his hand. “We’re riding Roach to our destination.”

Geralt helped Jaskier on top of Roach first and then climbed up himself. He took the reins and began their travel into the woods toward their date. Jaskier babbled as he usually did, trying not to focus on the way Geralt’s arms were around him, and the way Geralt didn’t shy away from him when he leaned back in a more comfortable position. Geralt also ignored any question of their date. By the time the sun started to finally set they found themselves in a clearing, Trees barricading them from the path, a small pool the stream started, and the waterfall that Geralt showered under earlier. Jaskier looked around a little confused, it was beautiful with the wildflowers that sprouted up around them, the smell of the maple seeping from the trees. The warm orange and red fading quickly into deep blues and blacks in the sky above them. The gentle sound of water falling into the small pool. A fire built in the center with logs placed  _ conveniently  _ next to the fire, scented candles surrounding the small pool. Lanterns carefully placed around the clearing for a soft spill of light. It was magical as fireflies began to dance through the night air around them, looking like beautiful small stars that he could catch and cherish forever, and his heart skipped a beat as he took it all in. 

Geralt dismounted first and helped Jaskier down and then went and tied Roach so she wouldn’t wander but gave her enough lead to go a little ways away from them if she so desired. “Geralt,” Jaskier mumbled as he looked around the clearing in a sort of awe. That look, it made it all worth it in Geralt’s mind. He didn’t have to ask the bard if he liked it, or if he’d write a song about it because he knew he would.

“We are eating dinner here,” Geralt said. His stomach was twisting in nerves, and he watched as Jaskier walked around the small clearing. Doubts filtered in, maybe it was too much, or maybe it was too forward and Jaskier didn’t like it. “If you don’t like it, we can go back?”

Jaskier shook his head. “No, I love it, what are we having?”

“I ordered a stew from the Tavern, but I’ll heat it up over the fire. I also have these,” Geralt reached into Roach’s saddle pack to reveal to expensive-looking bottles. Jaskier smiled and took each bottle looking it over, and then he looked back at Geralt with a glint in his eyes. 

“My favorite,” Jaskier whispered excitedly. “Well shit let’s get this date started.” 

A few hours later the darkness of the night surrounded them with the soft glow of lanterns still illuminating a few wildflowers, crickets and owls came to life, and the fire crackled before them illuminating the two men that sat in comfortable silence. They had full bellies and pink cheeks from the bottle and a half of wine they'd consumed. The outing was better than either expected, Geralt was sweet as raw honeysuckle as he made any excuse to touch the bard, he held his hand or wrapped a strong arm around him or even gently moved the bard’s hair out of his eyes, and possibly the best part of the night was that Geralt was telling stories of his family back at his home. Stories of his brother Lambert who he was undoubtedly closest with, and how he was rather impatient for a Witcher and never really had a full strategy when going into a battle. Stories of his brothers and he going on hunts and pranking each other. Who fucking knew Witcher’s had a sense of humor? Jaskier laughed until his belly hurt, he sipped on his wine, and he smiled as Geralt would go into explaining just how long it took to get the molasses out of Eskel’s hair after a trick went wrong. 

As the night wound down, they fell into an easy silence watching the fire flicker before them, creating shadows around them, and warmth in them. They were sitting close together leaned against a log and had a shared bottle of wine between then that they occasionally sipped from. “This was nice,” Jaskier said with an affirming nod. 

“Hmm,” Geralt hummed. Jaskier looked over at him, his golden eyes reflecting the flames, pale cheeks colored rosy from the wine he consumed, and perhaps the most shocking a small quirk of his lips resting on his face. “Indeed.” 

“I must say, Witcher, I underestimated you!” Jaskier sighed and stretched out a little with a long sigh. “I thought you were going to treat me to a regular dinner at the tavern, or perhaps do nothing special at all.” 

Geralt was quiet, thoughtful, and then he reached for Jaskier’s hand and brought it to his lips kissing each knuckle. Then took the bottle of wine and took a small sip. “I will shamelessly admit I liked that you actually talked to me,” Jaskier seemed almost shy at the confession as he stole the bottle back and took a gulp. “I think you should also know that this doesn’t make up for everything you said on that mountain, but I acknowledge you’re trying, and I appreciate that.” 

“I understand,” Geralt nodded. Emotion flickered across his face then he settled into the same somber look which caused Jaskier to scoot closer and gently kiss Geralt’s cheek. 

“I just need a little time to be sure this is going to stick.” 

“I know,” Geralt looked over at his bard and shifted away standing to his feet. “We should get back before it gets any later. People may think I killed you. They don’t like me here.” It was dry. Barely there. Yet, Jaskier knew Geralt well enough to know when he attempted a joke. He quacked out a laugh and decided to continue with the joke. 

“Oh yeah. Must be very concerning. Little ol’ me last seen with the great White Wolf. Clearly going against my will into the woods.” Geralt chuckled which brought more satisfaction to Jaskier than it should have as he helped clean the clearing up from their activities. As they packed up their things Jaskier found himself wandering toward the small pool, the water looked clear and inviting, and he assumed it had to be warm from the sun beating down on it. Before he could talk himself out of it, he was kicking his boots off and began to undo the laces of his doublet. 

“Jaskier? What are you doing?” 

“The water! It just looks so inviting! Care for a quick swim? Fuel rumors about you drowning me?” Jaskier was already down to his braises stepping into the warm water. He was right about the sun. 

Geralt was going to protest, but he really didn’t want their outing to end. So, he stripped down and stepped into the water with his bard. The water was warm on his skin compared to the chill of the quickly fading summer night, and the two swam in circles around each other soaking in the warmth of the water. “This is exactly what I needed!” Jaskier moaned. Geralt propped himself by a rock idly floating and watching Jaskier swim happily. “I could compose a ballad about this water! Magic and healing!” 

“I doubt it’s magic,” Geralt smiled. 

Jaskier rolled his eyes. “Yes, but the audience won’t know the difference.”

“You’ll start searches for pools with healing powers then,” Geralt said. 

“Clearly not my fault, people should learn to never trust every word a bard sings.”

Geralt snorted and relaxed further into the rock pressing into his back when he felt the water moving, and the sudden strong smell of amber and lavender he guessed Jaskier had swam closer. So, he cracked an eye open to see Jaskier’s arms resting on the rock and his cheek resting on his arms as he began to float next to Geralt. “Have you taken other people on outings like this?”

“No.”

“Really?” 

Geralt opened his eyes and looked at Jaskier, the bard was wearing a confident grin, and was looking at Geralt with what could only be described as love and adoration. “I didn’t know I could feel this way,” Geralt admitted quietly. “I thought I was meant for a life of quick meaningless fucks, visits to brothels, and a long lonely life- providing I didn’t get killed.” He moved his arm so his fingers could brush against the bard’s shoulder. “You came in and fucked it all up.”

“What a pity,” Jaskier laughed. “So, your first time then? Not special?”

Gods, Geralt couldn’t even remember when he lost his virginity but remembered it hadn’t been special. He shook his head, and Jaskier made a noise which caused the Witcher to look at him to see a sad look in his eyes. “It was fun though. No, I won’t tell you about it. It was too long ago.”

“Fine, I’ll make our first time special then.”

Geralt’s breath caught in his chest, and Jaskier immediately caught it and let out a loud boisterous laugh. They continued to swim until their heart’s content then they got out once the water grew chilled and rode back to the sleeping down. Of course, when Jaskier realized that Geralt was going to be sleeping with Roach he threw up a protest about how they’ve shared a room before, and it wouldn’t be any different now. That night they fell asleep with Jaskier on the bed and Geralt in his bedroll on the floor, and the sounds of each other’s breathing lulling them to sleep.

^ 

Days droned on, more dates ensued, and eventually, the pair fell into more comfort. Geralt was still expected to work for his Bard’s trust but he was more relaxed around the Witcher. Geralt was sitting in the bar watching Jaskier dance around to his audience, he smiled, flirted, and seductively winked himself through every song. The Witcher felt his stomach churn as  _ his  _ bard gave other men and women his attention but buried it down as this was his job and was currently paying for their ale and room at the inn. In between every few songs, Jaskier sauntered to Geralt for a quick break and usually to sip on the Witcher’s ale. Then he was off to the crowd to entertain some more. 

Geralt was having a good day, he woke up in the bard’s room and even was invited in a sleep haze for a morning cuddle while Jaskier danced between sleep and awake, and he even got an extra kiss on his head when Jaskier finally stirred and woke up. He was able to get a decent contract and it was a textbook hunt, and he even got to spend quality time with his beloved Roach. Jaskier had been considerably nice all day. He was having a good day. It was ruined the moment he heard a man a table over from him making comments about Jaskier. “I hear he’ll do anything for some coin,” he said in a low voice but still caught by Geralt’s hearing. 

“He’s laid with half the people in here,” A woman chirped. “My dear friend Gwen bedded him and said he could do wonders with his hands.” 

“No doubt,” the man replied. 

Geralt took a deep breath to calm himself, they were just drunkards in the bar, and it wasn’t likely they’d force Jaskier to do anything he didn’t want to. Still, he couldn’t bear to listen to them degrade the bard into just an object of their affections and rumor, so he stepped outside to get some fresh air. Things had been going so well with Jaskier, the last thing he wanted was to fuck it up by decapitating some patron with his bare hands, but still, a part of him wanted to go back in there and cause a scene just so people  _ knew  _ who the bard belonged to. No - no Jaskier didn’t  _ belong  _ to anybody. He was his own person. He belonged to himself. He was a person, not some measly object to be claimed. But gods he wanted to mark every inch of his body just so people knew he wasn’t in the market for looking. 

As he calmed down, he heard Jaskier’s voice fade and the chatter of the Tavern patrons. He decided it was safe to go in and wait for Jaskier to finish his rounds with people who were no doubt singing his praises. Only, when he walked in, he saw the man who had been disgracing Jaskier’s very name standing very close to him. His arm on Jaskier’s waist, and Jaskier’s eye fleeting around the room. He could smell the fear rolling off of him in waves as lust was rolling off the others. He took a deep breath and walked over to them. “Are you ready?” he asked Jaskier, not even sparing a glance toward the disgusting pig next to him.

“Excuse me!” the pig shouted slapping Geralt hard on the chest. “I was talking to the bard first!”

“I advise you not to hit me again lest you lose your head,” Geralt growled. The pig of a man tried to match Geralt’s height, but not wanting a fight chose to make moves on the bard. “Jaskier?”

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll be fine!” Jaskier laughed too much. “Stay close though.”

Geralt knew Jaskier was only flirting for the extra coin, but still, it made Geralt’s stomach turn into knots as the feeling of something bad was just lurking around the corner. He kept a sharp ear out just in case, and Jaskier started to say anything distressful. “C’mon,” the pig was whispering. “I know the rumors are true.” Jaskier’s heartbeat stuttered. 

“Oh no,” Jaskier laughed as he moved away from the man. “I don’t have sex for money.”

“But you’ll fuck a Witcher?”

“I haven’t-”

“C’mon-”

Jaskier yelped and jumped back. Geralt was on the man within the same second holding him at dagger point against a wooden pillar. “I believe he’s made it clear he’s not  _ interested. _ ” Geralt growled. Jaskier quickly sprung into action putting his hand on an unmoving Witcher blinded by rage. The pig of a man babbled off an apology about not “meaning” it and that Jaskier had been flirting with him all night. “Liar.”

“Geralt!  _ Please _ !” Jaskier pulled at Geralt’s armor, and Geralt allowed himself to be pulled and pushed out the door. Jaskier didn’t stop pulling him away until they reached Jaskier’s room. Jaskier was shaking, and his heart was racing as he paced around the room. “What were you going to do? Kill him? Tarnish what I’ve changed about the witcher race!?” Jaskier shouted. 

“He shouldn’t have touched you!” Geralt said in his usual calm, stoic voice. It fueled Jaskier’s anger. 

“It happens!” Jaskier yelled. “It’s not a perfect fantasy world! They pay me for entertainment! I could have handled it myself, Geralt! In case you’ve forgotten, I’ve survived as a bard before you!”

Geralt sucked in a harsh breath as he tilted his head at Jaskier. He had a hand on his hip and the other tangling in his hair. His heart refused to slow down. He was still pacing as tears built up in his eyes. “You can’t threaten every person who eyes me or gropes!” 

“I want to protect you! You don’t need to put up with unwarranted touching for some coin,” Geralt said. It came out all wrong, or maybe Jaskier heard it wrong. Suddenly the bard was crying, sobbing in front of Geralt. Oh, he wasn’t good at comforting. 

“I wasn’t whoring myself out!” Jaskier sobbed as he plopped on the bed next to Geralt. “I- I sing and I dance, and it gives people the wrong idea. Merlin knows where they got the idea that you and I are fucking!” He was babbling while sobbing his words coming out in whines. Geralt moved closer and took Jaskier’s hands away from his face and held them gingerly. “They think because they toss a few coins my way that I’ll sleep with them! Like they own me! All because I slept with the innkeeper for this room! I couldn’t afford it anyway! When the tavern and inn are separate, they are so expensive!” Geralt was shocked, and his stomach continued to churn in jealousy. Jaskier came first. Making him feel better came first.

“You belong to nobody,” Geralt said sternly. “No matter how much they pay you. You are Julien Alfred Pankratz, you are nobody’s but your own. You are Jaskier the infamous bard that is too stupid to leave the Witcher’s side and go find a glorious life somewhere else. You are stubborn. You are smart. You are a pain in the arse, but no matter you are your own person. You belong to you.”

Jaskier sniffled and looked at Geralt with a sort of awe-struck look, and Geralt was sure he’d be blushing too if he could. “You think so?”

“I know so,” Geralt pressed a kiss to Jaskier’s sweaty hair. “It’s been a long night, we both had too much ale, and you look spent.”

Jaskier agreed and they took turns leaving the room so they both could change, and then Jaskier crawled into bed with a full heart feeling better about what happened at the bar. He watched as Geralt began to lay out his bedroll and quickly decided that it wouldn’t hurt that they sleep in the same bed for once. “You can sleep here,” Jaskier mumbled, patting the empty side of the bed. “We’ve shared a bedroll before.”

“It was different then,” Geralt said as he stared at the bed. Jaskier had a dopey smile as he laid against the headboard, and his hair was messy from changing and taking a hand through it. The bed looked a million times more comfortable than a hard floor. “We were trying to stay warm and we weren’t-”

“Geralt,” Jaskier sighed. “When a handsome man asks you to share a bed it doesn’t always mean they want to fuck you. I’m far too tired to handle a Witcher tonight. So, if you would please,” He motioned to the bed again with the same charming smile. “Besides, I’ve been training hard with Sophia. I think I could take you if you decide to get handsy.”

Geralt shot a glare toward the annoying bard but didn’t bother to fight the smile from forming on his lips. 

^

The morning sun poured in through the window coating the sleeping men in light and warmth, it made Geralt’s scarred skin look like honey on a summer day, and his hair seemed to glow reflecting the light off of it. It looked almost transparent, and Jaskier thought he looked like an angel which was really ironic since he took potions that made his eyes turn black like a demon. Geralt’s face was pressed into Jaskier’s chest, his arm wrapped tight around his slender waist, and a leg tossed over Jaskier. They had cuddled before, but usually, it was out of necessity so Jaskier didn’t freeze to death. It never occurred to him that just maybe the White Wolf was a cuddler naturally. 

Jaskier’s fingers danced along Geralt’s back, tracing the different scars, and drawing mindless patterns along his skin. He worked his way up to the back of the Witcher’s neck gently massaging the muscle there trying to further relax the Witcher. Geralt groaned and snuggled closer to Jaskier’s chest. “Hmm.”

“You awake?” Jaskier asked. Geralt only sighed and hummed, lifting his head to look into the pools of cornflower blue. “Didn’t know the mighty White Wolf was so cuddly.”

“Shut up.”

“Be nice or I’ll stop rubbing your shoulders.”

They laid like that for a little while, the sun rising higher in the sky, and both of them fighting the urge to go back to sleep. It was peaceful, full of content, and Jaskier could have honestly stayed like that all day playing with the witcher’s hair and rubbing his shoulders. “What’s the plan today?” Jaskier asked. Geralt looked up at him, his hand flat on Jaskier’s chest, and leaned up on his elbow. Jaskier truly was beautiful. It was a wonder why he would want to share a bed with a Witcher. His eyes were brighter in the morning, almost electric, and his hair was messy and falling into his eyes. He wore a grin, a toothy smile as he waited for Geralt’s answer. “Am I to guess?” Geralt leaned up and kissed Jaskier.

It was unexpected. An ambush of soft lips covering his own, it was chaste, and just barely a brushing of lips. Jaskier could see the wheels and doubt turning in Geralt’s head, so he tightened the grip on the back of the Witcher’s neck and brought his lips back to his own. It just  _ felt  _ right. He couldn’t explain it even if he wanted to, his lips just fit against Geralt’s, and the feeling was able to warm his blood enough to open his mouth and allow Geralt control of the kiss. Geralt situated himself to hover over the bard, licking into his mouth, and nipping at his bottom lip. One hand keeping him hovered, and the other trailing over Jaskier’s chest and down his stomach to his thigh. “This alright?” Geralt asked as he trailed his lips to the corner of the bard’s mouth, to his cheek, to his jaw, and down his neck. Jaskier made a noise that was agreeable with a small nod. He then settled his lips on the exposed skin where his shoulder and neck connected. A moan bubbled up and pushed its way out of Jaskier’s mouth as Geralt continued to assault the skin there, biting and licking sure to create a bruise that would last for a few days. The thought of Jaskier having a bold bruise from him made Geralt groan and roll his hips against the bard.

“Fuck,” Jaskier moaned as his body arched desperate to find relief, he was already so fucking hard. How could he not be? He had fantasies about Geralt for decades. He was wanting. He was ready. Geralt could smell it, Jesus, Jaskier’s desperation, his heat filling the entire room with a spicy scent still laced with vanilla and amber. “Geralt,” He whined as Geralt bit and sucked harder. Geralt lurched his hips forward, rubbing his hard-on against Jaskier. “Please.”

Geralt licked up to Jaskier’s mouth, his tongue finding its way to taste more of the bard as he set a gentle, slow pace grinding against him. He knew Jaskier was used to hard and fast, and he wanted it to be special. Nice and slow. Teasing. Agonizing. “’s alright,” Geralt murmured as he nipped at Jaskier’s ear. “I’ve got you. We’ve got all morning.”

Jaskier whined at that and his hips bucking up. Geralt paused his movements so he could drag his tongue around Jaskier’s collarbones. Gods! He just wanted to mark and taste every inch of his bard. He started a hot trail of kisses to his navel, sucking, and biting as he went. He laid himself comfortably between Jaskier’s legs. “Oh!” Jaskier moaned. “Gods! Geralt!” Jaskier wiggled his hips trying to entice Geralt to go where he was needed most. 

Geralt hummed as he pulled Jaskier’s braises down and watched as his hard cock sprung free, heavy, and beading with pre-come. Jaskier was needy, whining, and wiggling his hips. Geralt wrapped his hand around Jaskier’s cock and gave him a few tugs. “O-oh!” Jaskier moaned, his entire body shuttering at finally getting some relief. “Fin-finally!”

“I’d say I’m surprised that you’re so needy, but then I’d be lying,” Geralt hummed as he stared at Jaskier’s face. His jaw slacked, his arms above his head trying to grasp onto the headboard for support, and his eyes pinched shut as pleasure washed over him from Geralt working his cock over. 

“Less talking,” He moaned. “More sucking.”

Geralt leaned down only taking the head of his cock into his mouth- moaning while he did. Jaskier’s body shuddered again. He continued to fist the rest that he didn’t take into his mouth and continued to use his moans to further drive Jaskier up the wall. He swirled his tongue collecting the pre-come, teasing his slit, and causing Jaskier’s hips to jerk. Geralt growled around his cockhead and gripped his hips pushing him into the bed holding him still. Slowly, almost teasingly Geralt sucked his way down the length of the bard’s hard cock. “Geralt, fuck, I’m not going to last long.” Geralt hummed causing Jaskier to arch as the Witcher pulled off only to take his cock all the way in one go. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Jaskier arched off the bed grabbing at Geralt’s hair to yank and pull, causing the Witcher to moan. “Shit!” he hissed as he fell back, his arms flailing to his sides grabbing at the rough sheets. Geralt pulled off of Jaskier and crawled back to the young bard’s mouth to press kisses against his mouth, swallowing any noises he offered. 

“Should’ve guessed you were noisy,” Geralt laughed as he licked a long stripe from his collarbone to just behind his ear and gave his lobe a small tug causing the bard to gasp. “Calm down,” He whispered, sitting up now and reaching for the bedside table for some oil. “I want to take my time. Make it special, remember?”

“hum,” Jaskier sighed as he watched Geralt use some oil and his hand disappearing between his thighs. “Fucking Christ!” Jaskier moaned as Geralt carefully slipped a slick finger into his hole. “More,” he begged. Geralt leaned down and took Jaskier again in one go. “Where? How? Who? Taught you to suck someone like that? Oh, Gods!” Jaskier arched again as waves of pleasure crashed over him like a sandy shore and the cool of a tidal wave. Except he was hot. Burning up. He tangled his finger in the white hair harshly tugging trying to make the pace quicker so he could get off faster. Geralt groaned around the cock in his mouth- which really what a sight? Who knew the Witcher would ever be so eager to suck a cock? 

“Another, Geralt, another, please. Gods, pretty please.” His eyes cracked open just to find black eyes with a ring of gold from his pupils being so blown. It was almost like he drank his Cat potion, mouth full, one hand edging two more fingers in, and the other hand on the Witcher himself palming himself through his own pants. What a sight indeed. 

Yet, still no comparison to Jaskier himself. At least from Geralt’s point of view. Eyes squeezing shut, tears building in the corners, one hand flat on the bed holding himself into a half-up sitting position, and the other harshly- continuously yanking at the Witcher’s snow-white hair. His lips were wet with saliva, dribbling down his chin, bruised and swollen with red and purpling marks littering his pale skin. His mouth in an ‘Oh’ shape as he panted. Geralt couldn’t hold back the grunt even if he tried. “Okay! Okokokok! Ready now! F-Fuck me now! Geralt!” He sounded desperate, yanking Geralt from his cock and staring at him with a wide doe-eyed look, pleading him. Geralt’s own cock twitched in his braises at the sight. How had he not done this sooner?

“Calm down.” Geralt ordered. “Going to send yourself into a tizzy.”

“Do not use words like ‘tizzy’ right now.”

“Just calm the fuck down, Jaskier.”

“Whatever you say, just fuck me,  _ please _ .”

Geralt pulled back and Jaskier whined at the sudden emptiness but quickly it melted into a moan as he watched Geralt pull his braises off and he moaned louder as he watched Geralt oil himself up. Jaskier was trying to flip over, trying to get his ass up in the air, but Geralt was already encircling an arm around his waist and holding him close face to face. “Wanna watch,” Geralt grunted as he pushed just the head of his cock in. Jaskier melted. Right there in the Witcher’s arms as a ghostly moan escaped from his bruising lips. “Pretty,” Geralt groaned as he thrust further in. Jaskier’s chest arched to meet Geralt’s. “So, fucking pretty.” 

“Hnng,” Jaskier choked on a sob as he wrapped his arms around Geralt’s shoulders and pulled him close peppering kisses all over Geralt’s face until he caught his lips. Deepening the kiss, licking and biting each other’s lips. Geralt set a slow, agonizingly slow, pace. It was so new, so different, and it was driving Jaskier up the wall- or up a Witcher. “Fuck! Fuck! Oh!  _ Oh! There! Againagainagain! _ ” Geralt rolled his hips again fluidly and Jaskier dug in his nails and bit down on the Witcher’s neck as Geralt continued the exact same movement at different paces, and different pressures. Jaskier was quickly going limp and could barely get out a shout of a warning before he was coming hard all over their chests. Geralt was grunting, pressing hard kisses anywhere he could reach, and murmuring sweet nothings as he picked up the pace to grab at his orgasm. Seconds later he came too. 

^

They laid in each other's arms for a long time after their unexpected morning, Geralt fell asleep, and Jaskier was enjoying the cuddling with his arms close to his chest and his head resting on the Witcher’s chest listening to his almost non-existent heartbeat. If he were to assume the time by the light outside, he’d assume it was only midday. He’d have to perform later so he ought to order up some ginger root tea to soothe his voice, he should also order up a bath for the both of them, but he was so comfortable wrapped up in blankets and in the arms of the love he had chased for decades. He didn’t want it to end. Didn’t want to think about what was next. 

The thing about Jaskier was he was an overthinker. The longer he laid in silence with nothing but the witcher’s heartbeat in his ear the more his thoughts wandered into more uncharted seas. He didn’t know what this meant for them, he wondered if maybe Geralt just wanted to try, or maybe he was just a rebound from Yennefer. At that thought, his heart broke a little inside of his chest. He loved Geralt, more now than he ever had, but he still felt wary of their future. What could their future hold for a man in his thirties getting older each year, and a man who had a mutant ability that makes him grow older slowly. There was bonding magic, ways to make him attached to Geralt so he would age the same. It was all too complicated, and he didn’t want to think about it anymore.

“What’s wrong?” Geralt asked. His voice was heavy with sleep, and his grip tightened around his waist. “You’re worried?”

“What’s next, Geralt? Where do we go from here?” Jaskier shifted in Geralt’s arms so he could look into those golden eyes of his. Geralt looked thoughtful as he looked out the window, the tree line of the woods visible, and also seemed to be fading into warm colors of yellows and oranges. A clear sign that Autumn was on its way. It was pretty, and it reminded Jaskier of Geralt’s eyes. Then he thought about how the seasons represented them, it was almost poetic, and by Gods, it would make a wonderful song about opposites and how fluidly they tend to work. 

Jaskier was warm, his smile able to light up any room he stood in, his laughter brought tears to the eyes of people who were following in outlandish stories like spring rains trying to bring up flowers. His blue eyes resembled the clear summer skies, and of course, he always smelled of sweet lavender and amber. Meanwhile, Geralt was cold. His conversational skills include a series of grunts and one-worded sentences. His eyes were golden like the dying leaves, his skin was pale like grey skies on a rainy afternoon, and his hair as white as snow. There was nothing warm about Geralt, and yet every time Jaskier looked at him he felt hot all over. “I suppose Kaer Morhen,” Geralt said after a while. “Almost Autumn and the mountain is a pain to climb in the winter, so I should leave tomorrow if I’m honest.”

The thing about Jaskier was he hadn’t been loved in a long time. It was too often that the person he bedded was babbling an excuse to leave him alone, and only ever see him when they want a body to share a bed with. Geralt had been different because Jaskier loves him. He is no exception to wanting to leave. His heart sank. Kaer Morhen. It was where the Witcher guild was, and usually, when Geralt went there he left Jaskier in a town. He was foolish for thinking that would be different. He didn’t want Geralt to see him cry so he flipped over his back facing the Witcher. “Jask?” Geralt rolled onto his side and pressed sweet kisses into Jaskier’s shoulder. 

“I should’ve known,” Jaskier mumbled. “I mean, you’re the Witcher and it’s going to be Winter-”

“Jask, I want you to come with me,” Geralt said and continued to kiss his shoulder while holding him tight to his chest. “I want you to meet the others.”

“Even Lambert?”

“Of course.” Jaskier could feel the smile on his neck and he giggled as Geralt’s stubble tickled his cheek. “I want you to meet Ciri too.”

Jaskier gasped and laid back on his back to look up at Geralt with wide eyes. “Your child of surprise? You found her?” Geralt nodded and pressed a kiss to each of Jaskier’s cheeks. “Oh! That’s wonderful! About bloody time too! I bet she’s so lovely, you think she’ll like me, oh I hope she does. Maybe I should write her a song? Think she’d like it?” Geralt smiled at his bard fondly as he rambled. 

“She’d love it, but I must warn you. She's every bit as powerful as her mother.”

“Magic?!” Jaskier gasped. Then his face turned sour. “Yennefer won’t be there right?”

“Actually-”

“Oh, Geralt!”

“Don’t start. She is nothing but a mother figure and mentor to Ciri. She and I are history.”

“Forgotten history,” Jaskier mumbled, causing Geralt to huff out a laugh. He then pressed a chaste kiss onto his lips and laid his hand flat on his belly. “We should leave tomorrow morning then. I could perform tonight, get us some extra coin, and you can prepare what we’ll need for the journey.”

“Think we have time to just lay here a little while longer?” Geralt asked as he ducked his head to the crook of Jaskier’s neck to press rough kisses on the already sensitive skin. 

“Of course not! I’m nowhere near ready for- Geralt stop that -travel! We mustn’t keep the princess waiting! That would be- Geralt! -poor etiquette!”

Geralt continued to suck on a bruise that was already there, Jaskier continued to babble, and he made weak attempts to stop him. “Geralt!” any attempt was futile because Geralt was already smelling the arousal coming off of Jaskier. “Geralt! I need to pack! We need to bathe!” Geralt’s hand had disappeared under the thin sheet that covered their hips. “Gera-” He broke off in a moan that time. 

“Still want me to stop?”

“Gods no! If you stop, I’ll never forgive you.”

“You forgive me then?” Geralt’s smile was soft and it reached his eyes. He’d been doing a lot of smiling lately, and Jaskier hoped he'd keep smiling for as long as they stayed together. Who knew Witcher’s had such lovely smiles? 

“Yes, now please don’t  _ stop _ !”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this fic! 
> 
> It's part one of a series I'm going to continue. Mainly this will be a series of Geralt and Jaskier and their lives being idiots in love. I won't update it as frequently but just when I have an idea for them or want to relax to write. 
> 
> Enjoy!!!


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